


Us and The Night

by ThoughtfulBreadPolice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Actual Mythology, And family background!, And some Witcher elements, Canon accepted-Wizards live two to three times longer than muggles, Child Abuse, Elements of different Religions, F/M, Female Harry Potter, If you're looking for a fast romance, Legends and Lore, Like Glacier Slow, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, So this is a super rare pair, The Blacks have always been bad ass, The Greek Fates shouldn't have done it, The Morrigan is a badass godess, The fact that it's fem!Harry/Rabastan makes it Atlantis, We are getting some Frozen elements in here, We've got culture guys!, Whatthemeepever is an enabler, You aren't going to find it all until Hadrian and Luna are adults, You see that tag?, and some other stuff, hurray!, which is awesome, which makes for different age ranges, you aren't going to find it here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtfulBreadPolice/pseuds/ThoughtfulBreadPolice
Summary: In an ocean full of stars, Hadrian Potter gets a gift and it changes everything.
Relationships: Eventually - Relationship, Female Harry Potter/Rabastan Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange/Harry Potter, Rodolphus Lestrange/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90





	1. Hello Love, My Invincible Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Please be mindful of the tags as we go along with this story. I'll be adding more as more of the story is added, but for now what you need to be aware of is Child Abuse, and Elements of several different Religions.  
> If these things bother you, go back.

They had locked her out of the house again. Hadrian could see them, through the back-door window, eating the dinner that she had spent hours making. A thick pork roast almost perfectly glazed and only a little burnt around the edges. For anyone else, such a meal would have earned high praise. Especially at her age. But Aunt Petunia could find fault in perfection and she’d been thrown out of the house for ‘ruining’ the dinner.

Not that a supposedly ruined anything would stop them from eating it. Aunt Petunia’s size was misleading and she had such a high metabolism that she looked rail thin. But Petunia could eat just as much as her pig sized son and her whale sized husband.

Thunder boomed over head as Uncle Vernon cut out another large chunk of roast with another large scoop of potatoes and a large dollop of thick, creamy white gravy.

Hadrian sighed and pulled away from the backdoor knowing that they wouldn’t be letting her back in tonight, and staring at them eating wasn’t doing her any favors. 

It’d been almost two days since she’d had anything substantial to eat and along with the ever-present sensation of hunger, she was starting to get thirsty. Which was why rain was such a good thing in her opinion. It let her drink enough to not only satisfy her thirst, but also, if she drank enough of it, would take away the feeling of hunger. For a little while at least.

Another house shaking boom from the sky, and Hadrian was moving. Out of the backyard, across the front lawn and onto the sidewalk. It was almost dark now and with the weather the way it was, dark grey clouds heavy with rain, there wasn’t anyone outside. Which was good because she was moving with a purpose and she didn’t want anyone way laying her and demanding to know what the local miscreant was doing out so late.

Not that anyone would believe her if she told them the truth. The Dursley’s were far to upstanding for anyone to believe such things.

As for where she was going; Surrey Public Library was her destination.

You see, the librarian always left a window open on the ground floor during the summer and that’s why Hadrian was going there. It was the safest place she could go at night, and no one would bother her, because no one would know she’d been there at all.

And seeing as how there weren’t any cameras yet, though she had overheard Mrs. Baker, the librarian, telling Mrs. Comfrey, who was the local Pastor’s wife, about how the city was finally going to be updating the library: They were going to get new computers, surveillance cameras and everything;  _ and wasn’t that just wonderful?  _

Hadrian didn’t think it was wonderful. Once those cameras went up, she was going to have to find a new place to go when the Dursley's kicked her out of the house again. And there most certainly would be an again. The Dursley's hated her and Hadrian had gone passed hating them and right into apathy a long time ago.

At least, she liked to think that was the case. 

Then they would hit her, a stinging strike across her too thin face, or big meaty hands gripping too thin arms way too tight, and she would feel such a stirring of rage inside that sometimes, the lights would flicker.

The Dursley’s had never noticed. Either that or they’d attributed it to something electrical. But Hadrian had noticed. She  _ always _ noticed.

Once was an anomaly, twice was a coincidence and three times and more, was a pattern. Flickering lights in the Dursley house was definitely a pattern. Cold water that was suddenly warm was also a pattern. So was her hair growing back over night, and so many other little, and not so little events that happened around her.

Whatever it was that caused it all, Hadrian knew that she, not the Dursleys was the variable for it. 

She had proof too.

Dudley’s friend Pierce had once grabbed her ponytail and yanked so hard; she’d been taken off of her feet. She’d lost a few chunks of hair too, but the point was, Pierce’s hand had broken. Because he’d yanked on her hair and when she’d hit the ground, Pierce had screamed because his hand had mysteriously,  _ magically;  _ though she’d never dare say that word around anyone within hearing distance of her; broken.

She’d heard him in school a week later telling Dudley and his gang of boys, how he’d been practicing karate and broken his hand by punching through a wooden board.

She didn’t know why Pierce hadn’t told anyone, but he hadn’t. He’d also never touched her again. Or looked at her. Which was a great improvement in her book, because Pierce was the fastest of Dudley’s friends and it was Pierce that usually caught her when they played ‘Hadrian Hunting’.

Fun game that.

But she digressed, the point was, weird things happened around her and- the window was closed.  _ Why was the window closed? _ In the year she’d been coming here the window had never, not once, been closed during the summer. Mrs. Baker always left it open because the lilac flowers outside the window made the library smell good in the spring.

Hadrian reached up onto her toes and pushed on the window. It was shut tight.

Hadrian stepped back and started to panic. Where was she going to go? What was she going to do? The library was the safest place. It was the  _ only  _ place!

Above her the night sky was lit up by the lightening that flashed across it. Moments later, the thunder rolled through the clouds and the heavens split open, pouring down the icy-cold rain of spring.

She was soaked through in less than a minute, and freezing not long afterwards.

Hadrian tried to bite back a sob as she raised a clenched fist to her mouth and pressed it into her lips. Whatever she was going to do, she knew she couldn’t stay here. Just because no one seemed to be out in this weather didn’t mean that no one was, and Hadrian had learned a long time ago to be very careful.

The people of Surrey, thanks to the Dursley’s constant slandering of her character, held a very deep  _ dislike  _ of one Hadrian Aquila Potter; and that was putting it rather mildly. Not that she much cared. She didn’t like them either. 

Every family in Surrey was the same. The way they thought, the way they acted, the things they did... even their houses looked the same. Perfect, light yellow houses. Perfect lawn. Perfect flower beds. Nearly all of them were stay at home mothers, which meant an endless amount of gossip and subtle back stabbing disguised as helpful advice, and worst of all, was the mass illusion that each and every single one of them was the perfect little family.

This place, these people, they were going to kill her one day. She was eight years old and already she could feel that spark in her dying. One day she was going to turn around, and she’d be just like them.

She’d rather die, thanks.

The sound of a crow’s caw had her looking up from the window, only to blink in confusion. There was a crow. Which, obviously, she’d heard the thing. But she hadn’t exactly expected to actually  _ see  _ one.

It was crow. In Surrey. The neighbors were going to lose their minds. She could already hear them now gossiping about how …  _ unseemly _ it was having a crow nesting in their neighborhood. 

‘Just you wait.’ they’d say. ‘It’s only one crow  _ now _ , but before you know it, it’s friends will show up; and there’d go the neighborhood.’

These people, they’d kill this bird. Just because it was different than the Surrey Approved Standard of Living and Acceptable Animals Both Wild and Domestic.

The crow was sitting there and Hadrian had the sensation that it was studying her for some reason. Not that she’d be surprised if that’s what is  _ was  _ doing. Crows were supposed to be highly intelligent animals. Problem solvers and thinkers. Or so she’d read.

_ Probably smarter than over half of Surrey  _ was her next thought, and that made her giggle just a little. 

The crow tilted its head to left.

Yeah, it was definitely watching her.

“You can’t be here, you know? These people; they see you pretty little crow. and they’ll either chase you off, or kill you.” Hadrian moved to stand in front of the low hanging branch the crow was sitting on. 

The crow didn’t move. It just kept right on watching her, and Hadrian kind of thought that it was a little bit unnerving. Was this natural behavior for a crow? She didn’t know.

“They don’t like things like you and me little crow. We’re too different. Too strange and too unnatural for them.” Hadrian sighed. “Bad omens. That’s what we are to them.”

It was a sad thought. It really was.

The crow ruffled its inky black feathers and opened its mouth to caw. Only what came out wasn’t like any caw she’d ever heard. It was loud. So loud that it hurt her ears and Hadrian smacked her hands over them in an effort to block it out. She squeezed her eyes shut only to open them a moment later when the sound had stopped.

The crow was gone. So was the tree, and the library and the rain. Infact,  _ everything  _ was gone. Hadrian’s eyes opened wide as she took in the new landscape and swallowed hard trying to fight down the new surge of frantic panic welling up inside of her chest.

It looked like a barren wasteland of ash and the dead, and everything was muted somehow. The breeze was nothing but a dull whisper as it whistled through the cracks and crevasses of the broken armor that the dead wore.

Shattered shields, broken swords... spears and arrows and... and...

Hadrian shivered.  _ It was so cold. _

“Do you think it glorious child?”

Hadrian gasped and turned only to freeze in shock. The woman was tall, and beautiful and terrifying in a way she couldn’t explain. Hadrian tried to swallow. “What?”

The woman made a sweeping gesture with her left arm, palm open to the sky. “This. Do you think it glorious?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I- no. I don’t think it’s glorious. I think-” and Hadrian sucked her lips inwards so that she could bite them briefly. “I think it should be considered sad, all this death.” Hadrian took a deep breath; “Who are you?” she asked. “Why am I here?  _ Where  _ is here?”

The woman hummed, “There is no glory in death, child. Only victory. Come.” and turning sharply around began to walk away from the battlefield full of the dead and towards the towering dark of the forest that Hadrian could see now that she’d turned around to look at the woman.

“No.”

The woman turned just enough for Hadrian to see her face. She could see how her refusal to obey had her eyes widening in delight and pale lips lifting slightly in amusement. “No? Little girl, it has been a very long time indeed since anyone has dared to tell one such as we; ‘no’.” She lifted her long thin fingers up to her mouth. “Long has it been too, since we have been so thoroughly amused. Since we have smiled.”

With a sharp nod and a ‘Very Well’ the woman turned back around, and with a negligent wave of her right hand, two chairs and a table laden with food appeared. “We shall then, speak and dine here amongst the dead, you and we.”

Hadrian swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth at the sudden appearance of all that food. And the  _ smell _ _ oh _ the smell. She knew each and every bit of food here would be delicious.

Stuffed rotisserie chickens and baked turkeys. Pork and lamb and beef roasts positively  _ dripping  _ in melted fat and covered in fragrant herbs and spices. There was stew so thick it would stick to the ribs of any who at even a spoon full and soups that would warm even the coldest of men.

Potatoes too rested heavy on the table. Mashed, and baked and fried and fresh green salad and flakey mounds of fresh golden baked bread and... and...

“I can’t eat any of this. I’ll throw it all up.” 

It was a basic fact of life for Hadrian Potter. She was kept fed  _ just  _ enough to not starve, but anything more than a light soup, a thin slice of bread and the occasional glass of milk, made her throw up. Which in turn got her hit for wasting food.

It wasn’t fair.

The woman sighed and Hadrian suddenly found herself sitting in a chair at the table. “Eat child. You will find that nothing that passes through your lips will come back out of them. Eat until you are full and you have been restored to what you  _ should  _ be and not what you currently  _ are.  _ As for who we are; I am The Morrigan child. The goddess of war and death, and we have taken you here unto our domain, because we find you... different. But that is for later. Eat.”

Hadrian ate. She ate, and ate and the more she ate the better she felt until finally, after what felt like a time longer than it should have been, felt full.

Content.

It was an odd sensation. She’d never felt so good or full. Usually she was exhausted far more than she had any right to be and she was  _ always  _ hungry. So, this was different. Not  _ bad. _ Just different.

The Morrigan smiled when she looked up at her from across the table. It was a mildly terrifying smile. “Good. You are as you should be.” She said, as though Hadrian had any idea at all about what she meant or what she was talking about.

Hadrian opened her mouth to say just that but The Morrigan hushed her. “We are The Morrigan. An old goddess of a time that most humans have forgotten. They have written we off as legend and myth. Such things, we know have always been bound to happen and it has never concerned us. It is the people who we and our brethren have given gifts to, that concern us. You are one such child. Though your forgetting is not your fault.”

The Morrigan looked almost sad for a moment before anger took its place, and Hadrian’s brow furrowed again. “I don’t understand. I’m sorry people have forgotten you, but I don’t know what any of that or this,” she swept her arms out wide, “has to do with me.”

The Phantom Queen sighed. “ _ This _ as you say, has nothing to do with you. But so too is this truth: you are a child of the fates.  A truth that... _ displeases  _ this one greatly.” The Morrigan stood and held out her left hand. “Come, child. Come, and we will tell you- we will  _ help  _ you and we will not ask for  anything that you cannot give in return for this one’s generosity.”

Hadrian stood, but hesitated to take the goddess’ hand. “What if-” she licked her lips “What if what you think that something , I can give you , is something that I think that I can’t give you?” She wanted to know. She had to know. Sure , if this Morrigan helped her, if they told her who she was and why weird things happened around her; if The Morrigan could make things  _ better _ , then that would be amazing. But at what cost? What would  this timeless being ask of her? What if she couldn’t give it? Didn’t want to give it?  Would the goddess force her? Kill her instead?

She may only be eight but she wasn’t stupid, and everything had a price, and the things that sounded too good to be true, usually were.

Hadrian, was  _ nobody's _ fool.

The Morrigan narrowed her eyes at the girl. Not in anger or malice, but in curiosity. Rare did a mortal, especially one so young, bring forth such a curiosity with them. What was more, was that the girl- this girl, was not in fact, afraid of her.

Many mortals, men and even a woman or two, who were far mightier than the small child in front of her. Had always shown some form of fear when in her presence.

It is just the way it was.

She was The Morrigan. The portent of death, and fate and the prophecies of the peoples that fell under her preview. 

Whether said people had forgotten her or not, was irrelevant.

Brigid may be The Mother goddess of the isles, but The Morrigan was the queen. 

So, when it finally came to her attention that the Greek fates had  _ touched  _ a child from her realm... color her intrigued and not a little pissed off.

All Greek prophecy tended to end in tragedy after all.

They of the isles, while they had not been here first, had been here  _ longest  _ and the Greeks had been birthed after them.

It was a very bold thing indeed to think that they. Upstart fools that they were, could touch one of her blessed childes and  _ not  _ interfere in their mechanizations, and while he may not be able to change what they had done, she could certainly influence the girl. Change her in subtle ways, if she was willing, and it would give Hadrian Aquila Potter the leading edge in the war that was coming.

With her, Hadrian would not only win, she would survive it, and her battle cry would be a sweet dish indeed.

If the girl decided to wear her banner, it would bring The Morrigan, and the rest of her brethren back into the memories of the blessed children of the isles.

This in turn would restore them to what they had once been.

Timeless they may be, but even the gods could die. Whether by the hand of one of their own or by dead faith, they too would greet the greatest of the deaths one day.

For True Death had been here long before them and They would be here long after They had reaped them.

Such was the way of all things.

Also, Morrigan liked the girl’s gumption. Such as it was.

Perhaps Harne was right and she  _ was  _ going soft.

A ridiculous thought but not an impossible one seeing as she was already growing quite fond of the girl.

The Morrigan, hand still raised to beckon the girl to her side, gave as gentle a smile as she could.

“We enjoy your spirit child, but taking my hand will not seal you to any pact or silent promise. We merely wish to take you to a place more hospitable so that we and you may talk.”

The girl’s doubt and distrust were unsurprising. But The Morrigan was not like Brigid. She did not have a well of patience from which she could draw.

“If, after we and you have talked, this one will return you with no harm done to you or upon you at that time, or a later one. And yes, suspicious one, you are allowed to tell us ‘no’. You have already done so yes? No harm was wrought for it, yes?”

Hadrian was chewing on her lips again, a large tell that would have to be fixed, if it even could be.

“Not all wish you harm, child. Have a little faith.”

The Morrigan watched as Hadrian took a deep, fortifying breath, and then took her hand.

They swirled away, the goddess and the mortal, in an explosion of color and light.


	2. Hello Love, The Thistle and The Bur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadrian realizes that she's going to have to save herself. Then she's realizes that self-saving is hard. And then she realizes that she doesn't have to do any kind of saving alone.

When she was little, Hadrian had hoped and hoped that someone,  _ anyone _ , would come and save her from the Dursleys. 

She’d been five and suffering from pneumonia because Vernon had thrown her into a freezing shower, clothes and all, and made her stay there for an hour. And as she lay there in her cupboard under the stairs, feeling like she was going to die from the pain in her chest, Hadrian realized that  _ no one  _ was going to save her.

She decided then, that she would just have to save herself.

Two years later and she’d had another realization. Saving yourself was  _ hard.  _

And now, a year later and after having been kidnapped by a goddess of war and death, she had another realization.

She didn’t have to go at it alone.

Sure, The Morrigan wasn’t going to lift her hand, wave it, and change everything, heavy interference being supposedly frowned upon, but she could, and was going to help her. 

According to her, it was the little things that made all the difference in the world.

‘ _ Do not forget the little things child.’  _ The Morrigan had said to her, but when asked, ‘ _ What little things?’  _ The Morrigan had given her a small, secretive smile, and replied with a ‘ _ You will know.’. _

Because that told her absolutely everything she needed to know. ‘ _ You will know.’  _ Hadrian scoffed. What kind of answer was that? Not a very good one, that’s what kind of answer that was. It sucked. Details maybe; would have been nice.

Hadrian supposed that The Morrigan being the  _ super  _ old goddess of war and death, that she was, was allowed to be cryptic.

But still, Hadrian wanted to know how she was supposed to know when The Morrigan has influenced someone into helping her.

Would it be people that hated her? Or would the goddess find someone that was more like her? Someone with  _ magic _ . And wasn’t that a novel thing? Hadrian had no doubt that it always would be. Magic was real, and how cool was  _ that?  _

Very cool, and as Hadrian lay there in her little cupboard under the stairs she smiled.

Three days ago, The Morrigan had given her a gift in an ocean of stars.

After they had swirled away from the battlefield of ash and the long-forgotten dead, they had re-appeared in the middle of an ancient forest. And it was ancient. Hadrian had known instinctively that the forest had been there long before humans, and perhaps even before the very goddess that guided her through it.

She hadn’t asked but The Morrigan had told her in hushed whispers as they walked through the winding paths, a little about it.

“The forest was here long before any of us, and before it was a forest, it was a garden, and before it was a garden, it was the deep waters of the world. This place-” The Morrigan turned her head to look at her and Hadrian saw in her eyes a wealth of deep secrets and knowledge far beyond anything a mortal should ever be allowed to know. “It is the cradle of life child. We walk now through the outskirts of the cradle, and no one, even those of us who have been here longest, are allowed through the thicket that protects the very heart of all things.” The Morrigan went silent for a long time after that and as they walked Hadrian would sometimes hear a whisper of  _ something _ moving through the darkness but whenever she looked, all she saw were the dark outlines of thickets, huge and towering like the deep brown tree trunks that they wove through.

But the paths they took were clear and as they walked; little lights would appear before them to light the way only to disappear again once they had passed far enough to not need them.  _ Teine biorach  _ is what they were, little spirits of the dead. The Morrigan had told her to ‘ _ fear them not, young one. While I am with you, none shall lead you astray.’  _ so Hadrian did not fear. And despite the cloying dark and the heavy, still air under the dark green canopy of the immense and imposing trees Hadrian felt herself drift. Out of time and thought, she walked behind the goddess and simply  _ was. _

Time, she found, held no meaning here. Days, decades, eons could have passed her by while they traversed the outskirts, and it made no difference to her. There was no care for the passage of time.

But eventually, they came to a stone archway. It was old and crumbling but seemed to be sturdy still despite the clear weathering of the stones. Beyond the arch, a long spiral of stairs that grew up and up out of and above the trees. The ‘sky’ however never lightened and Hadrian wondered if perhaps it had gotten even darker as they walked up the winding stairs until finally, they reached a platform and the whole sky lit up with billions and billions of stars.

They were so close, she was sure that all she would have to do, was reach out and she would be able to touch one.

She didn’t though. Touching the stars, seemed wrong somehow, and despite everything, Hadrian was an incredibly cautious child. Just because she now believed that The Morrigan held no ill intent for her, didn’t mean that she wouldn’t continue to be suspicious of things.

“Do you know where we are child?”

Hadrian shook her head. “No.”

The Morrigan tilted her head and studied the girl for a moment. “You could guess, I think, but we, child, are in the ocean of stars. It is here where all gifts are given. Usually one such as I would select a gift for our favored, and bestow it after a great trial. Very rarely is a mortal allowed not only entrance into this place, but also allowed to  _ choose  _ their gift.”

The goddess held herself still as the little mortal’s brow furrowed in thought.

“I get to choose?” she asked and at her nod said; “What are my choices.”

A feeling of fondness swept over her again at Hadrian’s surprising wisdom. To be so young and yet so intuitive.

The Morrigan knew of course that much of the way Hadrian was, was because of how she was being raised. 

A term which the goddess used  _ very  _ loosely. What those mortals were doing could not be called, nor considered, raising. The Morrigan would not trust her most hated to those wretched creatures. The fact that Hadrian was growing so well, in spite of them was remarkable.

Humans had become the worst of the world because of a broken childhood, and The Morrigan had seen it time and time again. Tom Riddle was a prime example of this. Though it had not always been so. Once upon time, that particular human could have been great. But now? 

“If you were to die, sweet child, soon to be mine, would you choose fire? Or would you choose ice?” The ancient goddess sat then on a low-lying bench that Hadrian was sure hadn’t been there before.

Fire or ice? The Morrigan would do as she pleased no matter which way Hadrian answered but still... Fire? Or ice?

Hadrian’s hands which had grown sweaty from keeping them fisted so long, rubbed her palms on Dudley’s ill-fitting slacks.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The Morrigan would wait, she knew. Time meant nothing here.

So, fire? Or ice?

Hadrian licked her chapped lips, wetting them slightly before instinctively raising her palm to wipe the moisture away. 

“I hate the cold. It crawls into your skin and seeps into your bones and it never seems to let go. No matter what you do, it grips tight, and it aches. It  _ hurts. _ But- but I think, if I had to choose, I would choose ice. Because ice is cold, and I heard on the tv that if you get cold enough- you don’t even  _ feel  _ cold anymore. It’s just like falling asleep isn’t it?”

Hadrian swallowed hard at the half smile on The Morrigan's face. Her eyes were bright and wide and  _ wild  _ and for the first time, it really sunk in for her that  _ this,  _ this woman before her was  _ a goddess _ . A being of incredible power, and Hadrian was so very small compared to her.

Weak.

Insignificant. 

Despite whatever reasoning the goddess might truly hold for taking up the banner of a mortal like her. And Hadrian really did doubt that it was as simple as getting back at the Greek fates for interfering with her. 

Though she also didn’t doubt that that had something to do with it, it certainly wasn’t  _ all  _ of it. But she was here, now, and she had taken The Morrigan’s hand. And despite what the goddess had said, after going through that forest,  _ the cradle of life, _ there was no way- absolutely no way- The Morrigan would just let her leave. Not without some very hefty consequences on her part anyways.

Hadrian, now being more than a little terrified, something she should have been  _ long  _ before now, nearly leapt out of her skin when the goddess chuckled.

“Be calm child. You are in no danger.” And Hadrian, heart pounding away inside her rib cage watched in fascination as The Morrigan raised up her right arm and  _ pulled _ a star from the inky black sky. 

The star seemed to struggle against her for a brief moment before it settled and The Morrigan cupped her palms around it and whispered to it.

It was a soft lilting language full of high and low notes that pushed and pulled against each other like the tide.

Hadrian couldn’t recognize it. Doubted she would ever be able to even if she tried. 

But the little star seemed to grow brighter and even brighter still as the goddess whispered her secrets to it before the star began to glow so bright that Hadrian had to turn her entire face away and cover her eyes lest she become blind to the little star’s sudden radiance. 

Hadrian blinked rapidly as the light that had burned into her retinas began to fade.

The ocean of stars was gone, replaced by the heavy, icy cold rain, and the library.

And the reason Hadrian was smiling now, as she lay cramped and alone in her cupboard under the stairs, was because the icy cold rain, wasn’t cold anymore.

Not only could she  _ not  _ feel the cold, it didn’t seem to bother her at all. The Morrigan’s gift was relief from the cold she hated so much.

The curse of it all was that it was to fire, that she would die now. 

It was another one of those things that she just sort of... knew.

The days that followed were exhausting for Hadrian. Nothing had really changed in that regard. Working and living under the oppressive thumb of the Dursleys was always exhausting. But this was different. 

Hadrian  _ knew _ things now. She was  _ different _ . Or maybe she was the same and only felt different because she was aware that she had always been different anyways.

It wasn’t all in her head.

But it was exhausting in another way than the usual, wake up to early, work too hard, and collapse with a meager meal onto her little army cot. She was waiting for the little things that The Morrigan had told her about. And while she still didn’t know what those little things were, The Morrigan had said she’d know and so all she could do was wait.

It was exhausting waiting and not knowing what she was even waiting  _ for. _

Hadrian did not like the waiting.

So, it was more of the same for her: Wake up, work, fall asleep hungry. Rinse and repeat ad nauseum. 

And then a little over a month later, Hadrian noticed that Petunia was  _ watching  _ her. And not in the normal ‘I have to watch the girl so she doesn’t ruin anything’ kind of watching. It was more... calculating.

Hadrian wasn’t sure what to make of it, and she continued to not know until one day out of the blue an incredibly severe looking woman knocked on the door to Number Four Private Drive.


	3. For You, I Have So Many, Many Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Adelia, and Petunia Dursley gets her own POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get excited guys updates don't usually ever happen this fast.

Adelia was a rather severe woman. Everyone who gazed upon her thought so, and she felt no compunctions with letting them continue to think so. After all, severity wasn’t all that bad of a trait. Or at least, she didn’t think so because most people generally tended to avoid her, and children were rather well behaved when in her presence. 

Imagination could cripple the mind if one wasn’t careful.

And she was certain, that with her thick, black hair, greying at the temples, and pulled into a tight, high-set bun; her pale skin and storm grey eyes and thin light lightly colored lips only a shade or two darker than her own skin tone- she was certain those imaginations ran rather rampant in regards to her.

It was all rather amusing if she was honest with herself. Which she always tried to be in spite of everything.

The thing was, Adelia came from a rather... powerful family. Or at least they had been once. At the height of wizarding society, the Blacks had been the premiere family and boasted a bloodline that came into being at the same time the Spartans had entered into the world stage.

The Blacks  _ were  _ Spartan. Kings and Queens both.  _ That  _ was the bloodline of the Blacks.

That was the family Adelia hailed from. 

Being a squib however had seen her excommunicated from her illustrious family, but only after she’d spent years under the attentions of a cruel and embittered woman that she had called Mother once.

But when her eleventh year came and she’d still showed no sign of magic, and no Hogwarts letter had come bearing her name, she’d been cast out and left floundering in a world that she’d had absolutely no idea how to live in.

Thankfully not all of the Blacks had felt the same way as Walburga, may that wretched bitch be denied for all of her eternity. 

Her Uncle Alphard and her eldest brother Sirius had done everything they could to make sure she survived the muggle world. Alphard himself had set up tutors for her. The arts, how to run a house hold, riding, socializing, the care and keeping of avians, the way of the old gods, and even the family magics, though she couldn’t actually practice them.

So when The Morrigan had appeared to her some weeks ago, she’d been stunned.

Shocked even. Especially when the ancient goddess had informed her that she would be helping a child that she favored, and Adelia was acutely aware that saying ‘no’ to the war goddess would have been a rather bad idea. One just didn’t generally tend to say no to The Morrigan. 

There was a reason that those who still worshiped the old gods and the old ways thought twice before invoking her. Mostly because the goddess found those who had severely lacking and the summoner generally tended to die in some form or another for failing to pass muster.

And color her even more astounded when The Morrigan told her that the favored child she would be helping was none other than Hadrian Aquila Potter.

The-girl-who-lived.

As a Black such a moniker made her teeth ache. Mostly from gnashing them together, because she was well aware that an infant, while having already shown a great deal of magical potential, was in no way capable of cheating death.

That so many could think such a thing possible was hilariously sad. Mother Magic was a most powerful thing; and a mother willing to give up her own life in defense of their child? That was one of most powerful magics.

Of course, there were still missing pieces to the puzzle that had been the Dark Lord’s sudden demise, but she was positive that it had been  _ Lily  _ that had been the catalyst that night. Not her daughter.

However that night had gone, the girl standing before her now was... not what Adelia had been expecting.

She was small and thin- much to thin, though she suspected that it had been much worse before The Morrigan had come into the picture. There was only so much a goddess of her stature could do in regards to healing apparently.

Not that Adelia would ever dare to point out that rather large lack of skill to The Morrigian.

Adelia liked living; thank you  _ very  _ much.

Adelia narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at the ‘Can I help you miss?’ that the girl had asked her. Hadrian’s voice was soft and more than a little defeated. She sounded far more tired than any eight, almost nine-year-old child should be. But Adelia was pleased, very pleased indeed to note the subtle hint of defiance hiding underneath the girl’s exhaustion.

This girl, despite all appearances to the contrary, was  _ not  _ broken. Which was excellent because Adelia feared she wouldn’t have enough time to fix a broken child.

A bent and damaged one? Adelia could teach her how to hide those kinds of wounds. She could teach her how to  _ not  _ react when someone inadvertently pushed those triggers, and she could give the girl the necessary tools and support she needed to heal from everything that had been done to her.

Though Adelia knew from experience that such wounds would never really leave her. They would scar, yes; but always they would ache. Randomly and without warning most of the time, to be sure but always, the reminder of her childhood would be there shaping who she was and who she decided to be as she grew into adulthood and started to interact with others.

Would her childhood grief give her compassion and empathy for others? Or would the hurts suffered onto her by those who were supposed to care and love her, put her on a path of darkness Hadrian would never be able to crawl out of?

Adelia didn’t know. But she could hope that it wasn’t too late for kindness.

“My name is Adelia Black child, and I am here, to speak to Mrs. Petunia Dursley.” And Adelia knew that her voice was bitterly cold and entirely unfriendly.

Hadrian sighed and stepped aside to let the stern looking woman into the house and after showing her to the living room and offering tea, which was accepted, she went to fetch her Aunt Petunia. 

Who sneered at her and demanded she make Petunia’s best, most expensive tea; because _ ‘Ms. Black is a very important guest you wretched girl and I’ll not have you ruining this meeting!’  _ Which was then followed by a hard smack to the back of her head and a demand to ‘Hurry up!’ before being left in the kitchen to do just as she’d been told.

Hadrian knew that Petunia wouldn’t have cared that she’d already offered tea to Ms. Black. Petunia would have probably just hit her over the head even harder if she’d said anything, so Hadrian had just kept quiet about it all.

So, in retaliation for the unnecessary harm Hadrian decided that she was going to draw the tea making process out as long as she could.

First was the china teapot, an overly feminine teapot that would have been lovely if not for the plethora of large, pastel covered flowers that dominated the entire surface.

Hot water was poured inside to warm the pot while she set the kettle on the stove and turned the heat to low.

The longer it took for that water to boil, the more information she would be able to get about who Ms. Black was, how she knew Aunt Petunia and why she was here, when Hadrian knew very well that Petunia didn’t generally associate with people that looked like Ms. Black.

So yes, Hadrian  was going to listen . And what she heard made her  give a superstitious look around her to make sure nobody was watching  before she grinned in delight.

“Truly Mrs. Dursley , I must apologize .”

Petunia blinked.  “Oh? Whatever for Ms. Black?”

“ Mrs. Dursley,  I’m ashamed to admit, but I did not believe you when you spoke to me of the girl, but even now, having just barely met her myself, I can tell what an… uncouth bit of youth she is. And it is quite plain to me that help is truly needed _ now _ , before that child ruins the good  standing of your family and yes, even the upstanding Dursley name!”

Petunia felt  _ vindicated _ .

For years she had extolled the wretchedness of that girl. How  un natural ;  how  _ strange  _ she was. And while many of her neighbors  had commiserated with her , and commented on how patient and honorable she and her w onderful husband Vernon were , for  having taken up such a noble cause as raising their orphaned  niece . none of them seemed to  _ really  _ understand how... disheartening it all was .

Of course , the neighbors didn’t know the truth of the matte r.  Petunia was sure that she  would die of shame - _ and her poor son _ _! _ Dudley would have  a black mar on his name and character for the rest of his life .  Why, she was certain that even  _ Vernon _ __ would lose his job at Grunnings if anyone ever found out the real truth; and Vernon was sure that he would be receiving a job promotion within the next few years. She refused to let that ungrateful child ruin Dudley and Vernon’s life! 

Which is why Petunia planned to never,  _ ever  _ tell anyone the truth about all of that ugly business.

So, Petunia and Vernon had come up  with  a story  about a car crash  that had killed her intelligent , but  ultimately lazy sister , and her drunk n eanderthal - esq husband , James .

And while P etunia didn’t  _ really  _ know  if James Potter had been a drunk before he’d gone and gotten his pretty little wife and  himself blown up,  s he wouldn’t doubt it. Not in the least. 

He ’d had that sort of look about him … him and all his  wild,  animal-like friends.

Petunia  had despaired of ever being free of that awful child she’d been  saddled with , but like hell she was going to let the brat go off and learn  _ magic _ . Even if it would get  Hadrian away from her family most of the year . 

She’d be damned if it happened.

Ve rnon had agreed  with her  most  heartly  about the damage a deranged child could wreak with that  sort of nonsense and so  they’d decided to stomp  all of that mess right out of her. They’d been succeeding for the most part as well, which was a relief.

Year after year,  and  the harsher they were . the less those...  _ accidents  _ happened. But Vernon had cautioned her to be careful. Just because it hardly ever happened anymore , didn’t mean that it couldn’t still happen at some point in the future.

Vernon the sweetheart, was such an intelligent gentleman, giving her sage advice and worrying about her safety while around the girl.

He’d blushed when she’d told him so. 

The delightful man.

Petunia sighed. “It’s quite alright Ms. Black. Many people have been fooled by her soft voice and quiet demeanor only to regret it later.”

Adelia nodded. “Quite so. Most children of that sort are more than able to trick others into thinking that they are something they aren’t. I'm curious though, as to how you found me? While I’m immensely glad I’m able to be here to help with such a clearly, deeply troubled youth, I usually only receive such calls from people around Scotland and some parts of Ireland.”

Petunia opened her mouth only to pause as Hadrian came into the sitting room with a tea tray holding good but certainly not her best fine china.

“What tea did you make?” Petunia’s voice was sharp and cutting and her eyes were like a hawk’s as she watched the girl to make sure she didn’t break anything. Though Petunia wouldn’t be surprised if the girl did.

Hadrian set the tea tray down and stepped away from the low table. “The Darjeeling from Mim Estate Aunt Petunia.” was said in a low voice.

Petunia nodded sharply once. “Good. Go to your room and  _ stay  _ there.” A mumbled ‘Yes Aunt Petunia’ and Hadrian was gone into her cupboard to ease drop even further on Petunia and Ms. Black.

Petunia leaned forward slightly and asked Ms. Black if she cared for any tea, and at the stern woman’s agreement she poured for them both and waited until they had both taken a sip before she answered Ms. Black’s earlier inquiry.

“To be honest with you Ms. Black, I hadn’t even known I  _ could  _ get help with a troubled child. But Mrs. Comfrey, that’s the local Pastor’s wife, told me about how Mrs. Baker, who is the librarian, told  _ her  _ about a cousin of hers that had a rather- shall we say, wild- nephew of her own that she was looking after; and how you, Ms. Black, had helped make that boy of hers a rather proper gentleman even after all hope had seemed lost to her. So, while I don’t hold to gossip, I simply had to try. I’m truly at my wits end with the girl you see, and I’m so very worried she’s going to wind up hurting Dudley one of these days and I couldn’t bare it if that happened and I hadn’t done absolutely everything I could to prevent it.”

Petunia took a breath and held it for a moment before she let out a slow exhale that she hid behind her tea cup. Adelia Black seemed sympathetic to her situation and it was more than she could have asked for. With any luck, with any luck at all, Ms. Black would take the girl and straighten her out. Thus removing the danger she posed to her precious son and her wonderful husband.

Finally.

The silence seemed to echo slightly as Adelia sipped her tea, which had been excellently made, before she placed the cup and saucer down onto the coffee table and folded her hands primly into her lap.

“Mrs. Dursley, such a child- she will pose a great challenge. There is much that must be done away with. First and foremost, this disrespect she seems to hold about her. Utterly reprehensible.”

Petunia’s eyes widened in panic.  _ Ms. Black simply had to take the girl!  _

_ “ _ However, I do believe that it can, with time and extensive treatment, be done.” Adelia’s smile was like a shark’s, and Petunia’s relief was so great, she didn’t notice.

“Now then,” spoke Adelia once more. “Shall we talk price?”

Petunia nodded in excitement. “We receive two monthly stipends for the girl. One from her drunken father’s estate and another from the government. I’d be willing to pay the monthly two-thousand pounds from the estate.”

It was a lot of money, but she and Vernon had discussed it and they had both agreed that the loss of so much wouldn’t overly affect them. They would still receive the monthly stipend of one-thousand pounds from the government and with how much Vernon made every year at Grunnings, they would still be more than fine.

Besides, now that they had the option of Ms. Black to take care of the girl and straighten her out- Petunia was sure that the moment Hadrian acted out again, Ms. Black would institutionalize the girl. Which was something Vernon and her hadn’t been able to do, and they had tried. But that crack-pot old fool, Dumbledore seemed to always know somehow when they tried to give the girl away or just leave her somewhere untoward.

But with Ms. Black? Why, they weren’t giving the girl away at all. They were simply paying to have the girl straightened out. Like Vernon had told her, loopholes were wonderful things.

If this worked, Petunia would agree with him.

It would make him unbearably smug, but she’d do it.

Adelia hummed and gave Petunia a look so shrewd it made Petunia nervous. “My usual charge rate is four-thousand pounds.” Adelia watched Petunia choke on nothing and fought down a vicious smile. Let that teach the wretched bitch to take money from Hadrian’s estate and spend it on anything  _ but  _ the child she should have been spending it on in the first place.

“However, I like you Mrs. Dursley, and I am sympathetic to your plight, and thought it saddens me, I do believe that you are right to be concerned for the safety of your son.” Adelia stood and Petunia nearly scrambled to follow. “Therefore, I will return tomorrow, whether the girl is ready or not. You needn’t concern yourself if she refuses to pack her own things. It will be a lesson in responsibility that the child clearly needs.” 

“ _ Thank you, Ms. Black! _ Oh, thank you so much!” Petunia followed Ms. Black to the door, barely able to contain her excitement. 

She couldn’t wait to tell Vernon! In less than a day, they’d be rid of the girl and hopefully for good. Petunia didn’t ask Ms. Black if they would be seeing Hadrian again, and since Adelia hadn’t brought it up, Petunia couldn’t be bothered to either.

In less than a day she could pretend she didn’t have a niece at all, and her home would go back to what it had been eight years ago.

Calm, and peaceful with just her little family of three.

After Petunia had closed the front door and gone back into the living room to finish her tea, Hadrian very carefully closed the door to her cupboard the rest of the way and  _ smiled. _

She smiled because she knew,  _ she absolutely knew _ that Ms. Black was sent here by The Morrigan. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow, and in the dark of her cupboard, Hadrian covered her mouth with her slender hands, and  _ laughed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you guys think so far! 
> 
> Comments and kudos feed me!
> 
> Notice: This story doesn't have a beta. I do my best but am aware there are going to be some errors.
> 
> And: If at any point you guys notice a continuity error please let me know so that I can check it out and fix it if it isn't something that wasn't intentionally done!
> 
> xoxo


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